


Just a Hunch

by kashinoha



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Lisa is more than a walking tease, Panic Attacks, Reveal, because we need to talk about this more, goldvibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5533352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashinoha/pseuds/kashinoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Touch me,” Lisa says. </p>
<p>Cisco reaches out a hand, then stops. “What if I see something bad?” he asks.</p>
<p>Lisa’s grin is dazzling. “What if you see something good?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Hunch

 

**Just a Hunch  
**

All characters © DC Comics

 

 

Others may beg to differ, but having a panic attack during _Star Wars_ ranks pretty high in Cisco’s book of _Most Effective Ways to Kill the Mood on a Date._

And it had been going so well, too.

Given who he works with, he never thought _he’d_ fit the bill for resident traumatized puppy. Everything is always about Barry and twice dead fiancées and kidnapped daughters so Cisco almost, _almost_ forgets he has powers because nobody has really stopped to talk to him about it.

So he represses, loses himself to distractions like Zoom’s increasingly annoying superiority complex and Harry hogging the expensive microscopes, but it is like putting a Band-aid on a zit. It draws even more attention to the fact that there is a problem. And Cisco had known it was all apt to blow up in his face at some time, but dude. _Star Wars?_

_“Breathe for me, Cisco. In and out, there we go.”_

Cisco knows he really should have talked with someone when he’d had the chance. There had been Stein at first, but Stein is gone now. Harry is prickly, Barry is busy, and all the other metas are crazy. Cisco thought about Detective West but then Wally happened and he doesn’t think Joe can handle a fourth Millennial dumping their issues out on him this year.

On slow days he locks himself in the lab room and wishes for someone, anyone, who can explain things to him. Some hot coffee splashes onto his hand one morning and he covers his ears as a kid with his shoulders burning screams and screams. He’s taking out the trash when he looks down at his hands, finds them bandaged and scarred, and sobs because he knows he will never play the piano again but at the same time realizing they are Dante’s hands, not his. He combs a mess of hair back from his brow after a shower and suddenly sees a hot, moist forest in the mirror with a gorilla-shaped mountain looming overhead. Caitlin hands him a slide on Thursday afternoon and he sees ice shoot from her fingers.

_“In and out, easy. Stay with me, Cisco. You’re all right. You’re safe.”_

It’s not exactly psychometry, but touch is definitely a trigger, Cisco discovers. He can take precautions to avoid seeing things that keep him up at night, watching the moonlight pool in his blankets until the sun comes up and still with no answers.

He wears gloves on every date with Lisa Snart.

Tonight, it was all “Let’s go see _Star Wars”_ because they had yet to do the classic Movie Date and Lisa wanted to rub it in her brother’s face since Captain Cold apparently is a closet Trekkie (Cisco’s never wearing his Bones tee around him again after finding that one out). Fine.

Dates are supposed to be all happy-feels and maybe a little more because good _god_ can Lisa work leather. She laughs and strokes a finger along Cisco’s chest in a way that makes him thrum and Cisco is having such a great time that he is completely unprepared when a bad Vibe strikes.

To his credit, when you’re dealing with extradimensional clairvoyance it’s kind of hard to pin down your triggers.

Cue blue light saber and suddenly Cisco sees a different kind of glowing blue staff, one that’s burning the flesh off his skin and crumbling the bone beneath it to ash. The smell of popcorn and nacho cheese becomes something altogether meatier, and before Cisco knows it he’s doubled over in a cold sweat with his heart thudding in his ears.

Vaguely, he considers the fact that maybe Lisa won’t notice. Then his throat does a weird constricting thing and he sort of loses it for a moment. He thinks Lisa is hauling him up by the arm (since when is she that strong?) and his legs might be moving, but Cisco is reminded of that time he got stung by a poison robot bee and his body just doesn’t seem to be cooperating.

“That’s it, Cisco, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Easy, sshh. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Lisa continues to talk him through it and he wants to remark on how she’d make a great yoga instructor or something like that, but he can’t seem to get enough air to do so. In his mind he’s cataloguing all the symptoms because even when incapacitated he still needs to science things and _hey there_ is she giving him a _back rub?_

“When…” Cisco swallows and tries again, “When did we get outside?” His voice sounds croaky and brittle; he almost does not recognize it as his.

“Right around the time I threatened the popcorn guy not to call an ambulance,” Lisa says, smiling, but her eyes are pinched with concern. Her hand is still rubbing slow circles along his shoulder blades, which feels ten types of nice against his clenched muscles.

Right, the movie. Cisco squeezes his eyes shut and says, “Oh my god I’m so sorry, Lisa,” with a groan. There is sweat sticking to his face and he thinks they are crouched behind the theater by a dumpster because he can smell stale hot dogs. His stomach gives an uncomfortable lurch, then mercifully settles.

Lisa sounds gentle when she speaks again. “It’s alright,” she says. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I…” Cisco sighs. “I kind of think I need to. Listen, Lisa,” he says, and makes a noise in his throat because this could blow his chances with yet another girl he likes. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Lisa straightens up. “Can you walk?” she asks him. Cisco tests his legs, finds them behaving, and nods. Lisa takes his hand.

“Come,” she says.

 

 

 

She takes him to Jitters, even though it is almost midnight and the place is obviously closed. Closed is never a problem for people like Lisa. Once inside she fiddles behind the counter until she finds what she is looking for and puts up a fresh brew. Italian, from the smell of it.

“What?” she shrugs, when Cisco raises an eyebrow. “I was a barista once.”

Cisco watches her from a high table, wondering how it is possible to feel both miserable and affectionate at the same time. As his eyes follow the slim curve of Lisa’s waist, the graceful way she reaches for an empty pot, the golden streaks in her hair winking softly in the fluorescent lights it creeps up on him, a dawning realization in this little, empty coffee shop, that he wants her help.

He realizes he actually cares what Lisa Snart thinks of him, and wonders when the hell that happened.

Lisa brings over two mugs of coffee and sets one down in front of Cisco. The mugs waft puffs of thin white steam that, after the movie theater, smell delicious. Lisa watches Cisco drink for a time without saying anything, waiting for him to speak when he is ready. It’s behavior that seems natural, practiced. Cisco is not really sure what to think of that.

“I’m really sorry about tonight,” he finally says, again, because he does not know how to start.

“Does this happen often?” asks Lisa, careful but not cautious. This cannot be comfortable for her, Cisco imagines, because he knows Lisa. Heart-to-hearts mean opening up, exposing weakness, which is something Lisa has trouble doing because the doors to her heart are rusty. Tonight he is glad it’s the other way around.

Cisco shakes his head. “Not really,” he replies. “I mean, a little, but today was the first time something like—“there is a catch in his throat—“something like this happened.”

Lisa is silent, but there is something in her eyes that is anticipatory. _This is it,_ Cisco thinks. Time to come out of the genetics closet.

“I’m a meta,” he says. He watches Lisa’s eyes widen.

“You have powers?”

Cisco’s hand comes up to scratch the back of his head. “Yeah, sort of,” he says. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but sometimes I get these… _vibes._ Visions. I dunno.”

Lisa takes a sip of her coffee. The movement is calculated. “Like a psychic?” she asks.

“No,” says Cisco, shaking his head. “They’re more like…extrasensory perceptions. I touch something, and sometimes I see stuff that’s happened, or stuff that’s going to happen, or.” He swallows, mouth dry. “Or things that haven’t.” He thinks about the fact that he has died twice but not at all, and shivers.

Lisa, in thought, twirls a finger around the ends of her hair. “So that’s why you haven’t…” Cisco keeps waiting for that look to cross her face, the look of horror. The one that suggests he kills babies for a living, or something. But it never comes.

“I’m afraid to touch things,” he admits.

“You said before you’ve seen things that haven’t happened. You mean things that _could_ happen,” Lisa specifies.

“More like,” Cisco begins, then backtracks. “Um, did you know the—the Flash can time travel?”

Lisa’s eyebrows shoot up. “No, actually. Since when?”

“Well he can only do it sometimes. Like when really crazy shit goes down, and we screw up real bad and need a redo,” replies Cisco. “No one remembers the first time.” He looks down at his cup. “But I do.

“I’ve died, Lisa. Sometimes I can still feel what it’s like. And I know that it’s not real anymore, even…even if it was.”

“But that’s not what’s bothering you,” Lisa finishes for him. Cisco startles, because he does not expect Lisa to understand so quickly. He’d been profiling her long before they began dating (mostly for legal reasons, because, you know, the Rogues), but it had never occurred to him until then that she had been doing exactly the same.

“These powers,” says Cisco, fidgeting with his hands, “all of them in Central City, they came from one guy. He gave this to people, and most of them ended up evil.” His hand twitches, almost as if wanting Lisa to reach for it across the table. “Lisa, what I can do, it’s—it’s not physical like the Flash or Mark Mardon. There’s darkness there, and I can feel it.”

“Darkness isn’t always a bad thing,” Lisa tells him.

“Says the criminal,” Cisco snorts.

“It’s true,” Lisa says, a little smile playing at the side of her mouth. “You’re so afraid of the dark because of who turned out the lights.”

“Yeah, well, the guy who turned them out was pretty scary.”

They lapse into silence after that, Cisco staring forlornly into his coffee and listening to the steady tick of a clock on the wall behind the counter. His mind returns again to Vandal Savage and Eobard Thawne, blue and yellow snaps against his eyelids.

Lisa worries her bottom lip, thoughtful, before she speaks again.

“Say you go into a room,” she begins, tapping a nail against her mug to unwind Cisco from his spiral of thoughts. “Once in the morning and once at night. The lighting is different, but the stuff in the room is still the same.” She shakes her head. “Darkness doesn’t mean bad just because you can’t see, Cisco.”

“But I _can_ see,” Cisco protests. His hands tighten around his cup. “That’s the problem.”

“You see the bad,” Lisa argues. “Lenny and I, we grew up in darkness. We were born in it, that’s just how it was. But darkness is only a force of nature. By itself, I don’t think it’s evil.”

Cisco frowns. “Then why have so many people affected by the particle accelerator turned out to be total nut-jobs?” he probes. At this Lisa smiles a bright, clever smile and Cisco thinks in that moment he loves her, a little bit.

“That’s an easy one,” she replies. “You suddenly get an amazing power and it’s bound to go to your head.” A fond look steals across her face. “Remember when Lenny first got his hands on your cold gun? He blew up a train.”

“I remember,” says Cisco, dry.

“Most of those guys probably didn’t or couldn’t talk to anyone about what they could do,” Lisa continues. “There was no one to show them the right way, so they just made bad choices—and that was them, not their powers.”

Cisco cups a chin in one hand. “And you know from experience, do you?” he asks. His efforts not to sound sarcastic are minimal, at best and he inwardly smacks himself for it.

Instead of answering, Lisa cocks her head and looks at Cisco in a way that he can’t quite read. “You know,” she tells him, “the Flash could have ended up a lot different, if you hadn’t gotten to him in time.”

Cisco knows. Because he’s seen that too.

“Touch me,” Lisa says, suddenly.

“Um.” He blinks. “What?”

“Touch me,” Lisa repeats. “I know you’ve wanted to. And now I know why you haven’t.”

Of course he wants to. Cisco reaches out a hand, then stops. “What if I see something bad?” he asks.

Lisa’s grin is dazzling. “What if you see something good?”

So he places his hand over hers, slowly, deliberately.

Lisa runs her thumb over his knuckles and traces her fingers over his. She sees something steal over his eyes and marvels how, unlike before, it is not a blank, dissociative look at all. Rather, it is one that is focused and deep, wise like the moon and old like the sky. And she loves it.

After a minute Cisco comes back. There are a few less furrows in his brow, the skin there smooth, relaxed. Lisa leans forward, hair brushing the edges of the table. “What did you see?” she whispers.

“Something good,” says Cisco, breaking into a grin. He sounds slightly breathless.

“You wanted to see something good, so you did,” Lisa concludes. “You just have to train it, right? I mean, I’m sure your friend the Flash didn’t know how to control his powers when he got them.”

“Yeah, he did run into a lot of stuff.” Cisco chuckles at the memory. Then he winces, remembering the insurance bills.

Lisa’s face is coy when she speaks again. “When _are_ you going to tell me who he is? I know Lenny knows, but he’s being unusually self-righteous about it. Have I met him before?”

“Ah-ah,” Cisco waggles a finger. “The Flash has revealed his identity to enough people already.”

“You don’t trust me, Cisco?” And she’s doing that pouty thing with her lip that makes his stomach flop in an entirely different way.

“Hey, I just told you something that a grand total of four people know,” Cisco protests.

Lisa laughs. “I’m kidding, Cisco.”

He knows he does not need to, but Cisco asks anyway. “So just to be clear, you’re okay with this? With me?” He waves a hand at his chest for good measure.

“Well, I work with a pyromaniac and a trigger-happy klepto of a brother,” says Lisa, eyes rolling. “You’re not so bad. And to be honest your puns are _much_ better.” Cisco laughs. Lisa really knows how to put things in perspective sometimes.

“Sooo now that I’m pretty sure I can touch you now without, uh, freaking out,” says Cisco, slowly, “can I make the rest of the evening up to you? No _Star Wars_ , though.”

“No _Star Wars,”_ Lisa agrees. With that said, she leans farther over the table and kisses Cisco. Her lips are warm and soft and as her tongue slips into his mouth Cisco can taste rich coffee. When the kiss ends Lisa pulls away and brushes his lips with her thumb.

Cisco gapes at her like a complete idiot before he remembers he has the ability to form words. So he clears his throat and says, maybe a bit too loud, “Say, do you like ice skating?”

“Why Cisco,” Lisa purrs, feigning naïvety in a way that _really_ shouldn’t turn Cisco on (but does because, let’s face it, he has a type). “How did you guess?”

And that’s it, that’s all it takes. In the past year Lisa’s tasted the light and he’s tasted the dark; none of them are simply black and white anymore and that is something Cisco is becoming absolutely okay with. He has Ph.D. in mechanical engineering and Lisa has a Midas gun. But hey. Maybe he needs a little bad to shed light on the good.

“Just a hunch,” Cisco says.

They leave Jitters under a high moon, Lisa’s fingers entwined in his, and on the way out Cisco takes a minute to toss his gloves into the trash.

 

_End._

 

 


End file.
